


Cross to Bear

by maximumfudanshi



Category: Jrock, MEJIBRAY
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Depression, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7456120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximumfudanshi/pseuds/maximumfudanshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koichi is the one who always follows Tsuzuku into the dark. That's what love is; a burden we bear willingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross to Bear

There’s a certain smell of decay, of rot, in a garden that goes untended. Not the smell of earth, fertile in warm sunlight, but something that makes you afraid that when you push aside a thorny branch, you’ll find something dead, swarming with maggots. But what is rotting is the earth itself, devoid of light and air, muddy water pooling in unturned soil. Roots suffocate silently in the dark, frail plants wither, dropping leaves. Creeping vines move in, blocking out the last of the sun, until the only thing that thrives are swarming mosquitoes and the anaerobic bacteria that smell so much like a corpse.

\---

Tsuzuku was struggling, sinking, left to his own devices too long. This was nothing new. He was resigned to it, letting it wash over him while he lay in bed and didn’t turn the lights on for days at a time. By the time he realized that the tide was turning for him, it was always too late for him to do anything to stop it.

But Koichi always followed him into his darkness, trudged through that self-destructive murk to seek him out- Sophie calling for Howl in formless blackness. That movie always made him cry. He knew all too well what it was like to be a mess of a man, someone who just couldn’t get out of bed sometimes because he felt so ugly.

And when Koichi found him- dragged him out of bed and sat him in front of a plate of pancakes, silently counted out pills for him while he ate- then he’d usually find himself again too. He’d go back to doing his best to follow where Koichi led, into that blinding brightness they sometimes shared. 

But Koichi wasn’t here. Not now. Koichi was on the beach fifty miles to the south, with old friends Tsuzuku had never met. He’d thought of calling, more than once, but couldn’t bring himself to interrupt. Sometimes he worried that whatever was wrong with him might spread, oily blackness clinging to and ruining anything he touched. So he never reached out his hand- dialed the number but never pressed send.

It was hard, knowing that Koichi cared, knowing that Koichi loved him, and still not believing it. It was so hard to know something but not believe it. But there were other things he sometimes thought he knew, frightening things there in the fog with him- things that Koichi always told him weren’t true. So why couldn’t he be wrong about this too? It made him doubt himself so much, sitting on the cold tile floor of the kitchen, forgotten cereal going soggy. Eventually he got up and poured it down the drain before going back to bed. 

He knew taking so much time off was bad for him, that he should have forced himself to meet with Mia, even if they didn’t get anything done. He should have gone out for drinks with Ryoga when he’d called instead of making up a weak excuse. He should have gone to the grocery before it closed today. There were a million things he should do. The fridge was almost empty. He should take a shower. He should call his doctor. He should pick up the book that he’d left fallen on the floor days ago.

But he didn’t. All the things he ought to do weighed so much, and he was too incompetent to focus on anything long enough to get it done. He was useless. The blinds were still closed. Good. The sheets hadn’t been changed in weeks, but he pulled them over his head and went back to sleep.

\---

Koichi let himself in when Tsuzuku didn’t answer the door. The lights were off, but he was certain Tsuzuku was there. They’d been doing this long enough now. He just knew. 

When he’d called to check in, Tsuzuku hadn’t answered. He’d given it 48 hours, waiting, in case his phone was simply left at the studio. And then he’d apologized to his friends for cutting things short, thrown his bags in to the back of his rental car, and headed back to the city. It wasn’t fair to ask the others to try to deal with this, not when Tsuzuku would be too ashamed let them help anyway. This was his cross to bear.

He picked his was across the living room. Tsuzuku’s phone was dead on the table next to a glass of water with a film of dust on top. In the kitchen, he caught the scent of something foul, rotting. He held his breath for a moment while his heart pounded. It was so much like the nightmare he sometimes had- the one that left him uneasy whenever he went away for more than a few days.

But this wasn’t quite the same. The smell was coming from the kitchen, not the back of the apartment. He made himself follow it. The simplest explanation is usually the right one, so he opened the fridge to look for rotting food but found it nearly empty. The trash needed to be taken out, overflowing with plastic wrappers from convenience store junk food, but it wasn’t the source of the smell either. 

It was coming from the balcony, where the door was open half an inch. There was nothing to do but to step out and look.

He was relieved to find the balcony empty, nerves still buzzing with leftover fear. The rotting smell had set some primal instinct in motion, but it was only stagnant water pooling in undrained planters. The dark purple pansies that Tsuzuku had planted were dead, slimy stems decaying in mud. The adrenaline, now unneeded, made his hands shake as he tipped the planters over and let filthy water flow out over the side of the balcony. 

He felt like laughing at the absurdity of it as he watched it drain away and heard the sound of Tsuzuku moving toward him through apartment.

He came to lean against the door frame, hair greasy and unbrushed. He voice was hoarse as he spoke. “Sorry. I guess I need my dosage adjusted again.” He crouched and hid his head in his hands. “I fucked up.”

Koichi sighed and patted Tsuzuku’s knee. To comfort him, or to comfort himself- to be sure he was real- it didn’t seem to matter which. He would call and make him an appointment, but first he wanted to wash the smell of decay from his hands. 

They would drill drainage holes in the pots and plant more flowers when things were better.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been living with depression for about 15 years. for some people it's just a fact of life. *shrug* i would rather have wrote something else, but this came out instead.


End file.
